Love may be standing, waiting with a bouquet of her most favorite flowers. Love may be walking, fingers intertwined by a sunset. Love may be cuddling, cozied up while just watching TV at home.

Love, for me meant never being able to do all that.

Loving her means having your day lit up by the little things; that grimace she expresses when the puppy she previously extended her warmth to ends up snogging her and that she plays with her hair and sometimes makes into a mane for herself.

Loving her means embracing disappointment. You wish things would turn out how you want them to but loving her means being okay when those expectations fall apart. Actually, you already knew that you were going to be let down but that doesn’t stop you from going through with it anyway.